


The Price of the Stars

by CaptainLeBubbles



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:57:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4305975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLeBubbles/pseuds/CaptainLeBubbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the space of a moment, Stanley Stasney lost everything- his best friend, his roommates, his lover, his job... <em>everything</em>. Now he's the court jester of the mercenary who took that from him.</p><p>Fortunately, there are a couple of former prisoners who are willing to make him feel better.</p><p>With their dicks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price of the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this post](http://wyomingsmustache.tumblr.com/post/123505590509/imagine-what-would-have-happened-if-felix-decided) and [this post](http://wyomingsmustache.tumblr.com/post/123508431744/stasney-starts-crying-in-the-middle-of-a).
> 
> Why did I decide to make my obscure otp even more obscure by adding a character with less than five minutes of screentime who was killed in the first episode? Who the fuck knows!

Stasney hates the two mercenaries, hates them both, and Felix more. Felix, who swept in and earned their trust and killed them all (he didn't have to, didn't have to kill them, they'd have given them the prisoners, wouldn't have cared, wouldn't have fought). Killed Bosney, his best friend, killed Blanton and Kilgore, killed Shades, killed the whole damn crew.

Killed Mayers.

And now the mercs have taken over the captain's quarters, and it curls Stasney's gut to think of them in there, doing who-knows-what in the captain's bed. All the wonderful nights Stasney spent there (and the mornings, and the evenings, and the afternoons) feel tainted in memory, to know that the mercenaries have taken over that space now. And all Stasney can do is ache for what he's lost.

At least they let him keep his own room, but without Shades and Blanton and Kilgore it seems too big and too empty- odd, given how much time he spent longing for private quarters. (He'd always found privacy in Mayers' room, even when he wasn't in the mood for the man's touch. His captain had always understood when he just needed some space, and given that to him.)

Now at night he falls asleep with Mayers' dog tags clutched tight in one hand, as if this can replace the feeling of the man's arms curled around his waist, his face buried in the back of Stasney's neck. It's nothing but it's all he has left and so it's everything, and he's just glad the mercs gave him a moment alone with the bodies before they were shot out of the airlock.

The thought of his friends' bodies drifting endlessly in space brings back that ache. Why was he allowed to survive? Felix said he was funny, that he deserved some entertainment after how stressful their job was. Stasney had bitten down his reply to that- despite what the others' always thought, he's no fool.

And being alive is better than being dead- at least this way he can maybe find some way to escape. (The thought of revenge occasionally drifts through his mind but he pushes this away. He doesn't have the mental fortitude to concern himself with revenge. He doesn't want to devote his life to vengeance, he just wants to be free. To have the chance to mourn and move on. It's what his friends would want, he's sure of it. It's what Mayers would want.)

The prisoners are kinder to him than he'd have expected. There are those who taunt him, yes, but their actions never carry farther than harsh words. He suspects that Felix may have something to do with his safety, Felix who thinks of him as a pet and a toy, Felix who just keeps him around for his own entertainment. He hates the man even as he's grateful for the protection he offers.

There are two, though. Price and Sharkface. They're working very closely with the mercenaries, have information and motives and abilities that make the mercenaries interested in them. Stasney remembers Price's words when he was brought to them, something about Project Freelancer. Stasney can't be surprised that Project Freelancer is involved somehow; he followed that story on the news pretty closely and thought at the time that there were quite a few loose ends not being tied up

Price and Sharkface are kind to him, beyond the norm. They speak to him with warmth, and welcome, and a touch of pity. He doesn't blame them for working with the mercenaries. They are, after all, looking out for themselves. He'd be a hypocrite if he hated them for that.

(He looked at their list of crimes, when the ship was first sent underway. He always liked to know what each of the prisoners was in for. Sharkface had been involved in many attacks on civilians, had been a soldier in a private army whose war was brought out of their corporate buildings and into the streets and now he was taking the fall. Price's list was so classified Stasney suspects even the UNSC don't know what all he's in for.)

He knows they're fucking. He'd passed their cell enough on rounds and seen them enough, suspects that it started for mutual benefit and then went deeper as their bond grew. He sees them together now, sometimes tense and strained and sometimes tired, but with a _something_ to their touch that never goes away. It puts him in mind of Mayers, the way even at his roughest there was always a certain gentleness in his hands. Stasney had always loved the way his captain could fuck him hard enough to leave bruises and still make him feel adored and safe at the same time.

Sharkface is the one that approaches him first. He's on his way back to his room after a long breakfast with Felix, filling him in on all of the gossip around the universe when the man approaches. (Felix is even hungrier for gossip than Stasney, and had been delighted to know that Stasney has an ear to the ground all over the universe- but now Stasney's job is to fill him in on all the intricate soap operas happening across the colonies. He recalls wishing he had someone to share all this gossip with, back when Blanton was throwing a pillow at him and telling him to shut the fuck up and go to sleep, and resolves to never wish for anything ever again.)

Sharkface invites Stasney back to his quarters, and Stasney thinks of his too-empty room and turns to follow him, because whatever they want is preferable to staring, once more, at the shelves of belongings that remind him of his friends.

They've put them both in Bosney's old room, and Stasney is relieved to see that all they've done with Bosney's things is stack them in a corner. Some of the other pirates had actually thrown their previous occupants' things in the incinerator, or shot them out the airlock or claimed them for their own. The blatant disregard for their victims' legacy is just one more thing to add to their list of crimes. And Stasney hates to think of the state of Mayers' belongings, once Felix and Locus took over his room.

Price is stretched out on the bed in the corner, the two cots- Bosney's and his roommate's- having been pushed together to form a single bed, big enough for two. He has a datapad in his hand, but he sets this aside when Sharkface and Stasney enter. The look he gives Sharkface in greeting is warm and welcoming; Stasney can see clearly, now, that there is far more than mere convenience in their bond.

The look he turns to Stasney is curious, mostly unreadable, and Stasney remembers why this prisoner had creeped him out more than the many muscle-bound tanks who leered at him and shouted lewd comments when he made his rounds. It's like the man is staring straight into his soul, picking it apart so that he can find each and every weakness buried there.

It gives Stasney the heebie-jeebies. He turns his attention to Sharkface instead, who is currently making tea in the corner with what Stasney recognizes as the kettle from Harper's room. The image- this big man, covered in tattoos and made of lean, sinewy muscle, carefully measuring out ingredients and making tea- is so absurd that Stasney almost laughs. Sharkface half-turns to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry,” Stasney says quietly. “Guess I just never figured you for the tea-drinking sort.”

“It's a good relaxer,” he says. “But this is for Aiden. He only drinks it the way I make it.”

“As I imagine anyone would, having tasted it,” Price says. “Terrence refuses to tell me his secret, and so I have to rely on him.”

"Old family secret,” Sharkface says. “My mom would come back from the grave to kick my ass if I told you.” He pauses, and a look passes over his face while he passes the tea over to Price. “Maybe I should try that. Want a cup?”

This last at Stasney, whose head is spinning at the casual ease the two men interact. It reminds him of time spent alone in Mayers' quarters, the casual, meaningless conversation, the intimacy felt in the other's presence, even when he was across the room. His chest clenches and his stomach is in knots again, and suddenly there's a hand at his back, rubbing gentle, soothing circles.

“You look like you could do with relaxing,” Sharkface says from behind him. “I was telling Aiden that earlier- that you could probably use relaxing. Right, Aiden?”

“Yes.” Price takes a sip of his tea. “He was very adamant. He's fond of you, I think. And he pities you for the way Felix mistreats you. He thinks you're pretty.”

This last is punctuated by warm hands sliding to either side of his waist and a pair of lips against the back of his neck. The contact makes his back stiffen even as his instinct is to lean into the touch. Behind him, Sharkface does nothing more, waiting for some kind of signal, though whether from Stasney or Price is a mystery.

Stasney's heart is pounding, his chest feels tight and his stomach is in knots, but those hands are warm and he's been longing for human contact: slowly, he leans back into Sharkface's inviting embrace.

Price and Sharkface share some silent communication over Stasney's shoulder, and then those lips are back on his neck, gentle kisses melting into soft nips. He wants more- longs for warm human touch and intimacy- and finds himself looking to Price for permission. Price nods, gives him an encouraging look, and he turns to face Sharkface, who drags him into a kiss that leaves him dizzy.

Stasney melts into the kiss, letting it happen and shutting down that part of his brain that is thinking too hard about this. He's aware of Sharkface's hands moving from his waist down to his ass, pulling him close and grinding against him. Stasney can feel Sharkface's cock against him, hard and wanting, and his own already half-hard at the suggestion.

Sharkface hoists Stasney up in one fluid motion and Stasney wraps his legs around the other's waist, clinging tightly to his shoulders as he's carried over to the double-cot. Price is already moving over to give them room and the next thing Stasney knows, Sharkface has him on his back, warm weight settling over him. Sharkface carries on kissing Stasney's neck, while his hands work Stasney's uniform open.

Stasney wants to say something- to ask what's going on, to try to understand why they're doing this- but he feels like if he speaks he'll break this spell and this will be over. Instead he brings his hands around to touch Sharkface's chest hesitantly, more surely when Sharkface hums approvingly. Thumbs brush over perked nipples, and behind him Stasney can hear Price shifting.

“He likes having them played with,” Price says. “Try pinching one.”

Stasney's brow furrows- this is strange- but he does as he's told and is heartened by the pleased noises Sharkface makes against his neck. Sharkface raises his head and meets Price's eyes.

“Aiden,” he says, and there's a tone of request in his voice. Stasney tilts his head back to look at Price as well; the man turns his attention from Sharkface to Stasney.

“Would you like him to fuck you, Stasney? He wants to. He told me so.” Price shifts over to join them, pulling Stasney's head into his lap and stroking his hair gently. “He thinks of you when he masturbates, sometimes. He has beautiful fantasies. Will you let him fuck you?”

His voice is almost hypnotically beautiful, and Stasney would be lying if he said the offer wasn't tempting. If he said he hadn't thought about it before.

He opens his mouth to answer but the words stick in his throat, thick and dry with nerves and tension, so instead he just locks eyes with Sharkface and nods. Sharkface only responds with a crooked smirk, and then leans back and pulls Stasney's uniform down with a single, quick motion. His jumpsuit is bunched around his thighs now, pulled taut where his legs are pushed apart, still wrapped around Sharkface's waist.

Sharkface is leaned back looking down at him appreciatively, and a blush spreads across his face at the scrutiny, down his neck and across pale, freckled shoulders. But Sharkface obviously likes what he sees, if his cock is any indication, already hard against his stomach.

“Do you always go commando?” Sharkface asks, turning his gaze to Stasney's own freed cock. Stasney's blush only deepens. Sharkface gives him that crooked grin again, and then his hands are everywhere, stroking at Stasney and working away his blush. “You blush too much. No one's got enough blood for both ends.”

He continues stroking at Stasney, working his hands down to his ass. He pulls Stasney's cheeks apart and one thumb brushes casually at Stasney's hole, before he stops and quirks a questioning eyebrow at Stasney. Stasney's blush deepens as he realizes why.

“I always- Captain Mayers and I- it was just- quickies were always easier if I was already ready for him. Guess I just never got out of the habit.”

“It's been less than a week,” Price says, stroking Stasney's hair. “Give it time.”

“It makes this easier, too,” Sharkface says. “Aiden, pass me the lube.”

Price does so, and then there are slick fingers working into Stasney, opening him up. It's barely necessary; in no time at all Sharkface is slicking his cock instead. Stasney pulls his legs up, spread as wide as he can get them with his jumpsuit still bunched around his thighs, an open invitation for Sharkface to just get on with it. Sharkface takes this invitation willingly, lining his cock up with Stasney's hole and pushing in, slow at first before slamming all the way in one quick motion.

He stops once he's all the way in and Stasney follows his gaze to Price. Stasney's head is still in his lap and he can feel how much the older man is enjoying the sight before him, but the look on his face would say all even without it. He gives Sharkface some invisible signal, and Sharkface starts moving, long slow thrusts until Stasney yelps in delight. He adjusts his angle to hit that spot again and picks up speed.

It's good, so good. Stasney finds himself coming back to meet Sharkface on every thrust, trying to pull the man in as deep as he can get, trying to find that point where everything else dissolves and there's nothing left in the world but pleasure.

Sharkface buries his face in Stasney's chest, kissing and licking the pale skin there, and Stasney turns his gaze elsewhere. Price's face unnerves him, so he finds himself looking at the ceiling, eyes drawn to the glow-in-the-dark constellations painted there.

He remembers the day Bosney painted those, remembers the way his roommate had bitched about them until Bosney had turned the lights off and he'd seen the constellations of home above him. They'd all gone still at that- they loved space, and for all the boredom not one of them would give up their job to leave it, but they would always miss the stars of home most of all.

Bosney was engaged, he remembers. He'd had a fiancee back at home, a two year old daughter, both waiting for him to come back to them.

Kilgore had a twin brother.

Blanton was all his mother had.

Shades was somewhere in the middle of twelve siblings.

Mayers had grandchildren.

And all of them are back on Earth waiting for a man who will never come home. It hits Stasney quite suddenly, and his vision is blurry and suddenly tears are sliding down his face to land in his ears. His breath is coming short and ragged; he tries to take a deep, steadying breath, and chokes on it.

“Terrence, wait.”

Price's voice cuts through the air and seems to steady Stasney. Sharkface had already stilled at Stasney's first gasping breath and Stasney's dimly aware of gentle hands gripping his sides, a thumb rubbing soothing circles on his hip. There are hands in his hair, a hand brushing away his tears and that voice again, smooth and steady and Stasney latches onto it like a drowning man onto a life preserver.

“What's wrong, Stasney? Are you hurt?”

“Naw, I-” He breaks off and chokes on another sob; he can't think of the words to explain the feeling that he's just been caught in a vice so instead he points at the ceiling and says, “Bosney painted those,” and hopes that they'll figure out the rest.

Understanding registers on Price's face, and he brushes away more of Stasney's tears. Sharkface, meanwhile, maneuvers Stasney's legs so that he can pull his jumpsuit off the rest of the way, and pulls Stasney into his lap. The loss of Sharkface's cock buried deep inside him is immediately overshadowed by the realization that he's being cradled like a child, wrapped in strong arms. Sharkface pets him gently, soothingly; he strokes Stasney's hair and rocks him while he gets his breathing under control.

“You were close to Bosney?” Price asks, when Stasney has calmed enough to speak.

“He was my best friend,” Stasney says. “He had a daughter. And a fiancee. And she don't even know he's dead. Sorry.” He scrubs at his tears. “Didn't mean to kill the mood.”

Something unreadable passes across Price's face, and he reaches over to join Sharkface in petting Stasney. “You're mourning,” Price says. “It's natural and healthy. You shouldn't try to hold on to your grief. I have... seen the results of such actions firsthand. It is preferable to indulge your grief, and let it pass naturally.”

“I wanted to be brave for 'em. But I'm scared, and I- I miss them all so much.”

“Know that feeling.” Sharkface rocks him some more, and Stasney settles into his embrace. He isn't sure what he was expecting from this visit to their room, but this isn't it. It's nice, though. He nuzzles his face into Sharkface's shoulder, revels in the feeling of being petted and comforted.

“I wish those mercenaries had never come here,” he says. “I just want my friends back.”

He's not sure how long he stays there, curled up in Sharkface's lap. Aiden eventually moves away from petting him and returns to his datapad, but he keeps up a steady stream of conversation, asking him about his friends. He never pushes too hard, for which Stasney is grateful, but it's nice to be able to talk about them with someone.

Around lunchtime, Sharkface finally moves and sets Stasney off of his lap.

“It's nearly lunchtime. Are you hungry?”

Stasney's head feels tight and his sinuses are blocked up, and his chest hurts from sobbing so deeply. He sits up, and nods, and reaches for his jumpsuit.

“Don't bother,” Sharkface says, grabbing his own pants. “I'll bring something back for you.”

“Oh.” He's so startled that he sits back down. “Uh, can you grab me an aspirin or something while you're out? My head hurts.”

Sharkface nods, and goes, leaving Stasney alone with Price. He gives the man an awkward look, and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“So, um. Thanks.”

“For?”

“For... not judging me, I guess.” Stasney shrugs. Price sets his datapad aside.

“I recently found out that one of my oldest and dearest friends... passed.. after I was locked up. Terrence lost his entire family. Each of us has dealt with grief and loss, and neither would judge you for expressing it, particularly so soon after your loss.”

“Still, it's kinda pitiful, to break down right in the middle of being fucked like that. Didn't even get to finish.”

“You could finish now, if you wanted.”

“Um, could I...?” He trails off, and his gaze flickers to Price's crotch. Price gets the point after a confused second.

“Of course,” he says, unzipping his jumpsuit and pulling his cock free. “I didn't get to finish either, after all.”

But Stasney is already pouring lube into his hand and reaching hesitantly for Price's cock so that he can work it back to full hardness. Price's eyes flutter closed at the attention, and, boldened, Stasney moves closer, rubs at Price's thigh with his free hand.

“I used to have a crush on you,” he finds himself saying. Price opens his eyes to give Stasney a questioning look, and that gaze unnerves him so he looks down at the cock in his hand instead. He decides that it's more than ready for him, and in one quick move that shows how well Mayers had him trained, he's straddling Price's lap with the man's cock lined up at his entrance. He lowers himself onto it and is pleased by the soft noise of approval that Price makes. “I used to have crushes on prisoners all the time,” he adds, stilling to adjust to the feeling of being filled.

Price's cock isn't as substantial as Mayers' was, and leaves Stasney wishing for more, but it's better than nothing at all and he makes a contented noise all the same. He imagines taking both Price and Sharkface at the same time, and immediately pushes that thought away: it's a lovely one, one that has his cock twitching encouragingly, but at the moment he just wants this. He moves a little, and something in Price's gaze makes him keep talking.

“I mean, I never acted on 'em, o' course. Just looked, and daydreamed. Mayers found out I liked you, though. Tore my ass up after that. Made sure I'd never be able to think about you again without thinking of him.”

He's thinking about him now, in fact, and he stills to fight back more tears. He doesn't want to break down crying again, he wants to, for just a few minutes, just be filled and used and let his mind go blank to everything but that feeling.

Price is rubbing circles in his back, encouraging and comforting, and he starts moving again. “I mean, don't get the wrong idea or anything. I loved it. Having someone being so possessive over me? Wanting to mark me as his and not wanting anyone else to have me? Yeah, that was pretty damn hot.”

He stills again when the door opens and Sharkface comes back in, carrying a tray with three meals on it. Stasney hears him make an approving growl at the sight that greets him, and turns to watch him. Sharkface sets the tray down on the table and joins the other two on the bed.

“Couldn't wait for me to get back?” he teases. There's warmth in his voice, and pure affection in the look he turns on Price. Price gives him a small smile.

“Stasney is very impatient.”

“And what am I supposed to do, now that you've taken him?”

Price shrugs. Stasney can see in their body language, in the amused glint in their eye, that this is just a game. Realizes that he's just a toy to them. The thought should hurt, but it feels kind of nice. He doesn't want an emotional attachment. He just wants to feel good, and used. That's exactly what they're giving him.

“I'll let you fuck me, when Stasney has finished,” Price says. “You can watch in the meantime.”

“Mmm, now there's a thought.” He grabs the lube and stretches out beside them, pants already kicked aside and cock hanging free. Where Price's look before had been curious, Sharkface's is hungry: he wants entertainment. Stasney is blushing again, and he buries his face in Price's shoulder before he starts to move once more.

His pace before had been slow, languid and lazy, more about the feeling of being filled than any search for real release. Now he picks up speed under Sharkface's hungry gaze, moaning deeply every time Price hits his prostate. He wants to put on a good show for Sharkface. He wants him to _enjoy_ watching Stasney get fucked by the man's boyfriend.

Stasney is startled when a slick hand suddenly wraps around his dick, and realizes it's Sharkface. His other hand has disappeared somewhere behind Price, and judging by the way Price's breath is hitching, Stasney can just guess where it is. He barely has time to marvel at his dexterity before Sharkface is jerking him off properly, and he's moaning even more now. It's too much- the stimulation is enough that before he knows it he's coming with a shout.

He stills on Price's cock to ride out his orgasm, shuddering as Sharkface milks him, and then he's being lowered slowly back and petted again. He whines a little at the emptiness when Price slips out, but they're not really paying attention to him anymore. Price is on his hands and knees with Sharkface behind him; Sharkface doesn't take much time to prepare him before he's pushing in.

Their movements are quick, hard; for several long minutes the room is filled with nothing but the sound of skin slapping on skin, of Sharkface's grunts and Price's groans. He watches in fascination, and realizes that they're putting on a show for him, that even though they're done with him for the moment he's still being included.

Sharkface comes first, slamming into Price with one last grunt; he pulls out as soon as his orgasm is over and turns Price around, kissing and nipping at him while he jerks Price to his own completion. Even after Price has come, Sharkface still keeps kissing him, maneuvering them both to lying down. It's not a show anymore, it's just genuine shared affection, and _now_ Stasney doesn't feel included; he rolls over, tries not to feel hurt, and wonders if he should leave.

He's just about to do just that when he feels a warm hand on his hip, and then he's wrapped in those strong arms once more. Sharkface kisses and nuzzles him, pets his hair and nips at his jaw, while Price is a warm, solid presence at his back. The affection and care are enough to send him to tears again; Sharkface brushes them away gently and kisses him softly.

“Didn't think we'd forgot about you, did you?”

“No- Naw- I just- I guess it's just a lot to take in.”

“Said the actress to the bishop,” Price murmurs against the back of his neck. Stasney snorts, and then falls to giggling. Sharkface grins.

“Would you look at that, Aiden? You got him to laugh!”

“I'm hilarious,” Price says calmly, which only makes Stasney laugh harder. Sharkface's grin spreads and he kisses Stasney through his giggles, until both of them are laughing. He steals one last kiss and looks at Price over Stasney's shoulder.

“What do you think, Aiden? Can we keep him? Just look at him.” He flips Stasney over (Stasney is starting to enjoy how easily Sharkface moves him around) and takes Stasney's chin, squishing his cheeks and pointing his face at his lover. “He's cute and sweet and he moans so pretty on your cock.”

“But does he want to be kept?”

“Yes.” The word is out before Stasney can stop it; his heart is pounding in his chest. He looks from one to the other. “...yes. Please, uh, keep me.”

“You're sure? You did just lose your lover.”

“And I miss 'im like crazy and I'm not lookin' to replace 'im but. But I want this. I do. I want the affection and contact that was stolen from me. I don't care if you're just looking for somewhere to put your dicks. I want this. _Please_.”

Stasney looks between them, and they have another of those silent conversations over his shoulder. Then Sharkface starts nuzzling behind his ear and Price smiles. “If you're sure, then.” He pets Stasney's hair and looks back at Sharkface. “You'll have to feed him and water him and take him for walkies every day,” he says. “He's your responsibility now.”

Stasney isn't quite sure if the man is joking or not, but Sharkface just snorts laughter into the back of his neck. “I'll sign him up for obedience training immediately,” he says, and this time Stasney can hear the joke in his voice. “What do you think, Pup?”

“Um.” Stasney's head is spinning. They sound like they're joking, but he isn't quite sure where the joke ends and the serious begins. He resolves to talk about it later, when they're not playing- maybe when they get around to eating that lunch going cold on the table. “I'm already housebroken,” he suggests, for now. “I swear I won't make on the carpet or chew on the rug or anything.”

“See?” Sharkface says. “He's a pretty good deal.”

“All right, you've made your sale.” Price's lips twitch up into an almost smile- a real one, not that eerie, put-on smile that gives Stasney the heebie-jeebies. Stasney buries his face in Price's neck, nuzzling and making himself comfortable, and is aware of Sharkface leaning over his shoulder to kiss the man soundly. They part with a soft sigh from Price, and Sharkface is back to petting Stasney.

“Get some sleep, Pup,” Sharkface says. “You've had a long morning.”

Stasney nods against Price's shoulder, and closes his eyes, lets himself drift off. He's exhausted- between the sex and the crying, he could definitely use a nap. And pressed between these two warm, solid forms, he knows he'll actually get a sound sleep for the first time since the mercenaries arrived.

**Author's Note:**

> Poor l'il bean :( He's had a rough time.


End file.
